Curt and Brian sat on the grass in the backyard garden, resplendent in blue and green silk robes. Brian carefully poured two cups of tea, handing one to Curt, and keeping one for himself. Taking the first sip, Brain closed his eyes, savoring the taste of the hot liquid. "Oh, that's heavenly," he murmured.
Curt watched Brian, loving the fluid grace of his motions, loving him. The thought was terrifying. Curt had never wanted to fall in love again -- had promised himself he would never let anyone hurt him like that again. But somehow Brian had slipped past his walls and insinuated himself into Curt's heart.
And now, while his heart was near to bursting with happiness, his mind was struggling to save itself from the rash and foolish and ever so dangerous longings of his soul.
"Can you tell me about it now, Curt?" Brian tipped his head slightly to the right, expressive eyes asking for trust, for truth.
"I'll try," Curt whispered, looking down to his still untouched cup of tea as if the answers to his fears would miraculously appear in the amber liquid. He took a quick sip, coughing when the tea when down the wrong way.
Immediately, Brian was at his side, slapping lightly on his back. "Are you okay?"
"Of course I'm not okay -- I'm choking," Curt rasped, trying to force a smile, his eyes tearing and his face reddening as he tried to breathe. After a moment, Curt calmed.
Brian rubbed Curt's back, the warm silk smooth and slippery beneath his hand. "Better?"
"Yeah." Unconsciously Curt leaned into Brian's gentle caress, cat-like in his subtle demand for more attention. "This is just really hard to talk about, you know?"
"I know, but I love you so much. Please trust me enough to tell me what's wrong. I don't understand why now, when we've gotten so close, you would start to have nightmares. It scares me to see you so tormented."
"Sorry," Curt whispered, hanging his head to avoid making eye contact. He really didn't want to be having this conversation. He knew why the nightmares had resumed now. But he wasn't sure Brian could hear the truth and still love him.
Brian's hand raised Curt's face up, encouraging Curt to meet his eyes. "There's nothing to be sorry about." Brian ran his thumb over Curt's lower lip. "I want to help you, Curt, not force you to talk to me."
"I know. It's all tied up to my past -- stuff I've never told anyone about." As uncharacteristic as it sounded, Curt was afraid of what Brian would think if he told the secrets of his past. Curt's forehead creased slightly in consternation.
Brian smoothed his fingers over Curt's face. "Whatever happened, I'll still love you."
Reassured somewhat, Curt resolved to try. "I'm sure you've heard all the rumors about me and my family. Some of them are even true."
Brian vividly recalled the last week, repeatedly waking up to Curt's anguished cries. This morning Curt had seemed particularly agitated, whimpering "Daddy" over and over before Brian had finally managed to wake him. Taking a deep breath, Brian tried to steel himself for the horrors Curt had lived through. "I'd heard your brother took advantage of you," Brian said, trying not to be sick at the thought that there could be more.
"That's where it started. I still don't know why he never liked me. I never did anything to him, but he was always mean, critical, didn't want to see me happy. I was a very quiet kid. I didn't have a lot of friends, but things were okay. I liked to read, was good at school, loved playing sports and following the Detroit teams -- baseball, football, basketball, and hockey. Even if we didn't have money, things were okay."
Tentatively, Brian reached out to take Curt's hand, needing to feel a physical connection between them as Curt bared his soul. "I can't believe you did anything to deserve his attitude. Some people just have to tear others down to make themselves feel better."
Curt shrugged, accepting Brian's hand and reassurance. "My sister wasn't as bad. She liked to tease me, let him egg her on, but at least she never hit me."
Brian flinched at the implications of Curt's statement. "Didn't your parents see what was going on?" Brian was almost afraid to bring up Curt's parents.
"My folks weren't real observant. My dad went to work at the plant, came home to the trailer and drank himself out of his boring life. My mom didn't know why she was unhappy. She got real religious, but it still didn't make her happy. They didn't have any dreams, so they just existed." Curt frowned as he remembered their lack of interest in anything but beer or the Bible.
"They sound really sad. I can see why you would want something more," Brian said, wondering if there was really anything he could say to make Curt feel better.
"That's the funny part. I was so shy I couldn't imagine leaving my home. Even if it wasn't fantastic, it was what I knew, familiar. But then everything changed. I started growing up, and my brother noticed."
"Oh god, Curt." Hand shaking, Brian put down his teacup.
"All five of us lived in the trailer, so there wasn't a whole lot of room or privacy. My brother and I shared a tiny room, and one morning he caught me with a hard-on. I was twelve and just realizing that my body was changing. I hadn't quite figured out what to do about it, but I'd read enough and heard the other kids talking. He teased me about growing up, told me he'd help me out, and then he touched me. I knew he shouldn't, but he wouldn't listen when I said no, and then it felt so good..." Curt trailed off, embarrassed that he had surrendered so easily.
Quietly, Brian said, "He didn't give you a choice, Curt. He was old enough to know better, but he manipulated you. It wasn't your fault."
"It was really weird. He'd always been so casually cruel to me and all of a sudden he was being nice, making me feel good. I should have known it wouldn't last." Curt let go of Brian's hand, running his hands through his hair, pushing it off his face.
Brian watched Curt collect himself, aching that Curt's childhood had been taken from him in this manner. "He wanted more," Brian predicted.
"Yeah. At first he just jerked me off, said he wanted to show me how to do it right. But then he wanted me to touch him. He'd given me pleasure, how was I supposed to say no to him after that? When he blew me I was overwhelmed at how good it felt. I had had no fucking idea how a warm, wet mouth would feel. I knew he'd want me to do it to him, and I let him teach me how. Looking back on it, those weeks were the best times I'd ever had with him." Curt took a deep breath, looking to see how Brian was taking his confession.
Seeing Curt's questioning gaze, Brian reassured, "It's okay, Curt, you don't have to be embarrassed about feeling that way."
Curt flopped onto his back, spreading his arms wide, fingers catching in the grass. "I think I'm more embarrassed at how naive I was -- thinking that I'd finally done something right with him, that he liked me. But, of course, all that came crashing down."
*****
The summer evening was warm and lazy. Thin, yellowish light shone from several trailers' windows as the background noise of radios and drunken conversations and insects permeated the stillness. Mark pulled Curt along the dirt path to the tiny trailer park playground with its basketball hoop and dilapidated swing set. "Come on," he said, tugging impatiently.
Curt stumbled in the darkness and tried to keep up with his brother. "What's so important?" Curt asked, not quite sure he liked being alone like this with Mark. The past weeks had been both horrible and wonderful. Mark had shown him the pleasure his body was capable of giving and receiving. And yet, Curt couldn't help feeling profoundly uncomfortable that what Mark was doing was wrong.
When they reached the playground, Mark hauled Curt against his body, grinding his aroused cock against Curt, silently indicating why he'd dragged Curt away from the trailer.
Curt groaned quietly, feeling his body react as Mark took control, hands traveling
over Curt's ass, squeezing and petting. "We shouldn't be out here. What if someone sees?"
"No one's around, Curt. Trust me, this is the perfect place." Mark smiled in the darkness as he calmed then aroused his brother with gentle stokes. He had been amazed at how responsive the brat was -- amazed and intrigued.
Curt let Mark touch him, panting slightly as his excitement superceded his fear of discovery. Mark tugged Curt's shirt off and then began to undo Curt's cut-offs, pulling them and his underwear down around his ankles. Curt stiffened, feeling trapped and uncomfortably exposed. "Mark --"
"Quiet, this is going to be fucking fantastic." Mark jerked Curt's cock to full hardness before reaching to open his own shorts. "Turn around."
Curt had expected Mark to rub their cocks together, so he was confused by the command.
When he hesitated, Mark slapped his upper arm sharply. "I said turn around," he growled.
Gasping at the stinging handprint on his arm, Curt turned around, facing the swing set. "I don't understand why --"
Mark put his hand on the small of Curt's back, pushing him down. "Bend over the swing." Mark's voice was laced with excitement, his breath coming in shallow pants as he looked at the pale expanse of Curt's skin.
"Why?" Curt's voice quivered with uncertainty and growing fear.
"Trust me, Curt. I'm going to make you feel great," Mark said smoothly.
While Curt tried to decide if he had enough time to pull up his shorts and run, Mark forced him down over the swing. Now, hanging sprawled over the swing, Curt felt the seat cutting into his stomach and sides. Bracing himself with his hands on the ground, he tried to struggle, but Mark's hand on his back held him in place. "What are you going to do?" Curt asked, voice trembling.
Mark ran his hand over the soft, smooth skin of Curt's ass. "I'm going to make you mine." Mark sucked two fingers into his mouth then pushed one into Curt.
Curt tensed at the unexpected intrusion. "Stop it, Mark. I don't want to do this."
A second finger worked into his ass and Curt felt himself being roughly stretched.
"Stop!"
Mark slapped his hand over Curt's mouth. "Shut up, brat. Just relax and it will feel good."
Curt tried to shake his head and push away with his legs, but Mark held him down easily. Then Mark rubbed his fingers over Curt's prostate. Stars exploded behind Curt's eyes and his struggles diminished. Curt groaned behind Mark's hand, opening his eyes to see the random brightening of fireflies.
"That's it...let me do it," Mark gasped, cautiously removing his hand from Curt's mouth. When Curt didn't cry out, Mark rubbed his back soothingly before removing his fingers. He covered his cock with spit before squatting down slightly to position himself.
Curt felt a hard pressure and then a sharp pain as Mark pushed into him. He cried out as his muscles clenched, trying to prevent penetration, and the pain increased.
"Shut up or I'll really hurt you." Mark dug his fingers into Curt's hips, holding him still before pulling out and thrusting back in.
Curt whimpered, biting his lip to keep from screaming. It felt like Mark was tearing him apart, spreading him and slicing through him. Tears sprang from his eyes, tracking down his face. It hurt so much.
Mark began a quick, brutal rhythm, pounding into Curt, swinging them forward with each thrust. He grabbed Curt's softened cock, forcing a response. "Come on, get hard for me."
Unbelievably, Curt felt himself obeying. His ass still hurt, but the pain was being countered by the pleasure of Mark's hand. Mark changed the angle of his thrusts, brushing against Curt's prostate again and again. Arching beneath Mark, Curt shuddered as he came.
Mark released Curt's slippery cock, thrusting strongly a few more times before following Curt into an explosive climax.
After pulling out of Curt, Mark straightened, righting his clothing. Curt lay still, bent over the now motionless swing, breathing hard. "See, I made it good for you, little bro." Unconcerned by Curt's silence, he reached down to pull Curt up.
At the touch of Mark's hand, Curt began to struggle again. "Don't." Curt tried to stand up, needing to get away from his brother. He was so confused -- with Mark's actions and his own responses.
"Stop struggling. You're mine, now. I can touch you any way I want, whenever I want, and you're such a little slut you'll love it." Mark pulled Curt upright. "Get dressed and then get back to the trailer."
Curt bent down to pull up his shorts, gasping at the pain, but Mark had already left and didn't hear.
*****
"So that's how I lost my virginity, terrified and bent over a fucking swing." Curt sat up slowly, not really wanting to face Brian.
"Oh, Curt." Brian moved closer, rubbing Curt's arms with his hands. "I can't imagine how you must have felt."
"I was pretty much in shock over the whole thing. I had really thought he'd begun to care for me, but then he hurt me, threatened me, and I realized I was just a convenient body. That hurt -- maybe even more than being taken by him."
"Were you okay?" Brian asked quietly.
"Yeah. I stayed outside thinking for a while, regrouping. I was so confused. I felt that he'd betrayed my trust, but I'd responded, so I must have liked what he'd done. When I went back to the trailer to clean up, I discovered I'd bled, but it wasn't too bad. I was really sore the next day and I had a bunch of bruises, but other than that, it was like nothing had changed. But of course, everything had."
Brian's fingers brushed gently across Curt's jaw and into his hair. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, luv."
Curt accepted Brian's touch, taking comfort in its warmth and gentleness. "Thanks, Bri. You know it's going to get worse, don't you?"
"Yes," Brian whispered. Clouds had been gathering as they sat in the garden, and now they blocked the sun and a chilly breeze blew. Brian shivered and moved closer to Curt, unsettled by the conversation and the elements.
"Hey, it's okay." Curt responded to Brian's silent request for contact, wrapping his arms around Brian and holding Brian close, basking in the love he both craved and feared.
They remained quiet for a few minutes, taking a break from the pain of the past and reminding themselves of the joy of the present.
Finally Curt began again. "After the first time I thought it couldn't be any worse. But, of course, I was wrong. I decided that I didn't want him to touch me again, but he just laughed at me when I told him and wouldn't listen. Although he had to be careful not to get caught, there were still plenty of opportunities. Then he started getting more and more violent when I continued to ask him not to touch me."
"You couldn't tell anybody?" Brian asked, wanting desperately to change the injustice of the past.
"Sometimes I wanted to, but he hit me, threatened me, told me no one would believe me, that I really liked it and to quit being such a baby. I felt so fucking frustrated, caught up in this situation I couldn't control, couldn't stop. School started and I thought things might get better, but they didn't. I got even quieter than usual. Sometimes he'd come by my school at lunchtime and make me suck him off in the bathroom. He got a real thrill out of forcing me in semi-public places. That was the worst part -- there was no real pattern to when he would want me, so I could never avoid him or know when to expect him. I was scared all the time."
Brian stoked Curt's back. "Damn, I want to strangle the bastard."
Curt laughed harshly, shaking slightly under Brian's hands. "You're not the only one to have that reaction. I wanted to strike back at him, but instead I started snapping at other people for no reason, starting fights at school, talking back to teachers -- things I'd never thought of doing before. My science teacher actually kept me after class one day and asked me what was wrong, wanted to know if she could help." Curt stopped talking for a minute, remembering that moment.
Brian bit his lips and continued petting Curt, hoping the contact would help. Even knowing that Curt's brother had been a problem didn't make it any less painful to hear. And that Curt was the one telling the story was heartbreaking.
"I wanted to tell her, let her help, but I was afraid...and I was ashamed."
"Oh, Curt, luv." Brian closed his eyes, wanting to soften the harshness of reality.
"He wouldn't just fuck me or make me suck him, he demanded a response. And sometimes it really did feel good. I couldn't imagine telling my teacher that he hurt me and then having him tell everyone what a slut I was. So I kept quiet, told her everything was fine. After that she watched me, but there really wasn't anything she could do."
Sensing that something had to break, Brian asked, "Then what happened?"
"My mom caught us in the bathroom of the trailer," Curt whispered. "He was making me blow him. You should have seen her face -- it was really indescribable."
"What did she do?" Brian thought he knew where this was leading.
Curt laughed. "Exactly what he'd said -- believed him not me."
Brian struggled not to shout. "But how the hell could she blame you? What about your father?" Surely someone had listened to Curt.
Curt smile was brittle. "They didn't want to believe their oldest child was a monster, so they decided I was sick, and let the State ship me off to a sanitarium for eighteen months to cure me."
"I can't believe they blamed you," Brian repeated, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Of course they did -- it was so much easier on everybody."
*****
White-hot arcs of energy invading every cell, muscles contracting, convulsing against bonds. Immobilized. Inescapable.
Days drifting by, unaccounted for. The sky brightens then darkens then brightens in an endless cycle, shadows tracking slowly across the floor.
Pain.
Emptiness, loneliness, isolation.
Fire.
Unbearable.
*****
At first Brian thought he had lost his battle with tears, but as the drops began to fall in earnest, he realized it was raining. Brian tugged at Curt, shaking him from the past. "Curt, we're getting wet, let's go in."
Opening his eyes, Curt grinned and stood. Much to Brian's surprise, Curt tilted his face up and slipped out of his robe, standing gloriously naked in the center of the garden. "Have you ever realized how soft water is, how it caresses your skin? Can you smell the flowers, the grass? Rain makes everything so alive."
Brian watched as Curt spun around, arms flung wide, body glistening and slippery-wet.
"Curt?"
"Freedom, Brian," Curt panted, still spinning. "There's freedom in the wind...in the rain...in the stars." Curt lurched to a stop, swaying over to Brian, grabbing his hands. "They locked me up, tied me down, fried my brains. I never appreciated what I had until it was gone. Take time to experience the sensations, to store up the simple pleasures of being alive."
Rain ran down Brian's face, but he surrendered to Curt's words, slipping off the soaked silk and standing exposed to the rain. Curt's hands traced a raindrop down Brian's chest, the feather-light touch of warmth heightening the cool slide of the water. Brian's skin prickled and he was aware of his body in a way he'd never noticed before.
Curt felt Brian shiver and pulled him into a firm embrace. "Can you feel it?"
Brian rubbed against Curt, seeking the warmth of smooth skin. "Yeah, I can feel it, luv," Brian whispered in Curt's ear, delicately licking the swirl and nibbling on the lobe.
Groaning and arching into Brian, Curt let his hands drift down across Brian's ass, smoothing and squeezing. He felt the hard length of Brian's cock insistently pushing against his own. They moved together, slick from the rain and desperate for pleasure. Curt hooked his leg behind Brian's and tumbled them onto the grass, covering Brian's lithe body with his own.
Brian's gasp of surprise as he was taken down changed to a low moan for more. Curt's beautiful body was pressing him into the grass and he felt every blade caress his skin. It was amazing.
Curt rolled them onto their sides, quickly finding Brian's erection and beginning to stroke it. He loved seeing Brian in passion -- the perfect angular face, lush lower lip, blue-gray eyes sparkling with lust. He growled low in his throat as Brian's hand closed around his cock.
They were out of control. The rain poured down in sheets, soaking, chilling; lightning brightened the skies and thunder crashed, but they had created a bubble of heat and passion that protected them from reality.
Curt captured Brian's lips, kissing, panting, nipping, and Brian surrendered, opening to the velvet caress of Curt's tongue. For a moment, Curt thought he felt the flash of lightning, but it could simply have been his reaction to tasting Brian.
They moved together in wild synchronicity. As they came in each other's hand, a crash of thunder punctuated their completion.
*****
Curt and Brian lay naked, curled together in front of the fireplace, Curt's damp head propped on pillows, Brian's resting against Curt's chest. Curt stared into the fire, feeling the heat, seeing the bright flames licking at the wood, consuming it. He was drawn to the vivid colors, the primal dance of the flames, so beautiful, so hypnotic...so deadly. Why did everything perfect have to be poisonous?
Brian squeaked as Curt's arms tightened around him unexpectedly. "Curt?" Brian asked cautiously.
"Sorry, Bri." Curt loosened his hold on Brian, stroking the pale skin now turned golden by the flames. "Thanks for staying outside with me." Curt knew Brian was not as comfortable as he was with the wilds of nature.
"Thank you for showing me how to let go. I could feel the energy of the storm, of us. It was incredible."
"And frightening," Curt whispered.
"Yes, that too." Brian closed his eyes and focused on Curt's steady heartbeat, reassured by his solid presence. Finally Brian asked, "What happened once they let you out?"
"I can't begin to tell you what it felt like -- after all that time locked away, discarded, tortured -- to be free and alive. Everything was so bright, so open, so many sensations bombarding me that it hurt."
Brian clung to Curt's hand, remembering the power of the storm, its fury now muted by the house's walls.
"I don't really remember much about the sanitarium, mostly just feelings of despair and emptiness, all saturated with pain. That's what stands out most intensely -- the pain. When I got out I was really fucked up. My brain was struggling to readjust, to process all the new information. I had nightmares, think I blacked out a couple times, felt foggy a lot. And of course, my problem hadn't gone away."
"He still wanted you?" Brian managed to ask, feeling his stomach twist painfully at the thought of Curt's suffering.
"Oh yeah. He'd had power over me and didn't want to give it up," Curt confirmed. "It might have been a nightmare, but I think they visited me sometimes at the sanitarium. He was always in my head, looking at me with hunger, winking to let me know he'd still be there when I got out."
"How awful."
"I guess I should be grateful that he saw how messed up I was. He left me alone for a couple weeks, gave me time to readjust. But once I was starting to feel better, he approached me again."
"What did you do?" Brian was shaking slightly, the heat of the fire insufficient to warm the chill of fear and pain he felt for Curt.
"I'd changed. Before, he'd confused me by making me feel pleasure. But I'd had months of unbearable pain to burn out the memories of pleasure. I knew I didn't want him to touch me again, so I screamed and fought and told my parents he had tried to touch me." Curt's body was tense, but his voice remained low and smooth.
"And..." Brian rubbed his hand up and down Curt's arm, afraid of Curt's parents' reaction.
"And, they told me everything would be okay, they'd take care of everything. My mother told me to rest and tucked me into bed. Of course I was so freaked out I couldn't sleep, but I pretended to and when she left I listened to them talking. They decided I'd been brought home too soon and they'd have to call the doctors again."
Curt shuddered at the thought of being re-incarcerated.
"I can't believe anyone could be that cruel." Brian struggled to refrain from ranting about Curt's family, knowing it might hurt Curt more than help.
"I couldn't go back there, I couldn't," Curt murmured. "So I waited until evening, took the little money I could find, and snuck out of the trailer. I walked to the highway and hitched a ride. I figured I'd go to Detroit and find a job and build a new life for myself."
"My god, Curt, you were what, fourteen and a half?" Brian was horrified that Curt had been forced to choose this path.
Curt rubbed Brian's shoulders, quieting him with gentle circles of his fingers. "I was still incredibly naive, but I knew I couldn't stay there and let them lock me away again. I just couldn't." Curt's voice was firm and tightly controlled.
"I'm sorry, Curt. I wasn't criticizing your decision. I'm just incredibly frustrated at your family." Brian sat up so he could look at Curt's face. "I'm angry that you were treated like that, not angry at you."
Curt closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. "I know. Sorry, too. This next part is going to get a bit rough, do you want to take a break?"
Brian looked into Curt's eyes, seeing his determination to face his past, to tell Brian the truth, no matter how painful. "Not unless you do."
Curt shook his head, his hair spread against the pillow. "No, I'd rather keep going."
"Okay, what happened once you got to Detroit?"
"Not surprisingly, I couldn't find a job. The city was huge and I was alone and as much as I didn't want to end up back in the sanitarium, I was scared and completely out of my depth." Curt sat up, clutching a pillow to his chest.
"I don't like where you're going with this," Brian whispered, taking Curt's hand again in silent support.
Curt clung to Brian's hand, trying not to hurt him. "I ended up where every other out of money and luck run-away ended up. There were more girls, but still quite a few boys. One of them 'befriended' me, told me the deal with his pimp. I had been sleeping in doorways and was starving. I didn't want to think about what he was telling me. I was so exhausted, I just focused on the promise of food and a room with a bed."
Brian's mouth quivered as he tried to hold back tears. What could he possibly say?
Curt released his hand and Brian keenly felt the physical separation as Curt seemed to withdraw into himself.
"That night I was sleeping, totally worn out. One moment everything was fine, the next there were hands on me, touching me, pinching and slapping, playing with me. I woke up screaming but it wasn't a nightmare. There were five of them, including the kid who'd brought me there. I think it was an initiation ritual. They laughed when I begged them not to touch me, told me if I was gong to be a whore I'd have to get used to it. I fought but there were so many of them. They held me down and it was like the sanitarium all over again -- being bound, helpless, in pain. I completely lost it, freaked out, went wild, but they wouldn't stop, just hurt me more the more I resisted." Curt's face was pale and drawn and he clutched the pillow until his fingers turned white.
Tears he had tried to hold back ran down Brian's face. How could Curt have survived all this? It was too much to take in. "Curt, luv," Brian murmured, wanting to hug Curt but not sure if his touch would be welcome right now.
Curt looked at Brian, seeing the tears and the uncertainty. Tentatively he asked, "Hold me?"
Brian nodded, opening his arms. They moved together, hugging tightly, crying against each other for long minutes.
Finally Curt untangled himself from Brian, rubbing his hands over his wet, reddened face. "I've never told anyone about that before."
"I'm glad you felt you could tell me. I do love you, you know." Brian stroked Curt's hair off his face.
The fire crackled loudly, distracting them from the moment. Curt crawled over to add another log, fascinated as always by the flames.
Brian remained quiet, unsure if Curt wanted to tell him more, but consumed with questions about what had happened next.
Seeing Brian's questioning gaze, Curt continued his story. "I don't think they meant to hurt me so much, but when I resisted it just set them off. That's the pack mentality for you." Curt shrugged, trying to distance himself, not take the events too personally. "I was totally devastated. After my brother, I'd promised myself I'd never let anyone touch me again. At least with him, for a while, I thought he loved me a little. These kids were as desperate in their own way as I was, but they didn't care about me. I was just a game that got out of control."
Brian shuddered at the tone of resignation in Curt's voice. "It's still not fair," Brian said, somewhat petulantly.
Curt smiled slightly. "No, it's not. When their pimp saw me, he was rather pissed off at them. He let me have a day to rest and then made me go out the next night with another kid to show me the ropes. I had a fever, was really hurting, and it utterly terrified me that someone would want to fuck me. I got through the 'training' night and then was sent out the next night. I avoided getting picked up for as long as I could, but a guy kept cruising his car past me and finally stopped and asked if I wanted to go for a ride. Of course I didn't, but I knew I was being watched and would get in trouble if I didn't go. I was so frightened I forgot to negotiate a price, just got in and let him drive me away."
*****
Curt sat squished against the car door, trying to keep as much space as possible between himself and the man. Although it was dark, with the aid of the streetlights Curt could see that he was nicely dressed with dark hair and a pleasant face. Curt thought he looked old, maybe even in his forties.
"Put your seatbelt on." The man's voice was gentle but firm.
Seatbelt? Curt couldn't remember ever using a seatbelt, but almost without realizing he was doing it, he fumbled to follow the request. When silence stretched between them, Curt leaned his hot face against the cool window glass. After a moment, he closed his eyes.
The man watched Curt drift into a restless sleep. It was clear he was not well.
Turning into a surprisingly nice motel, the man parked and went to open the door to his room.
Curt felt dizzy, like the ground was spinning beneath him. He felt strong arms supporting his back and legs and realized he was being carried. For a moment he relaxed into the solid warmth of the body holding him. But as awareness returned, Curt stiffened, instinctively striking out, trying to escape the touch.
"Easy, now, I'm not going to hurt you."
Curt wiggled out of the man's arms, landing on the bed with a thump. His groaned as his battered body absorbed the impact. Rolling away from the threat, Curt pushed himself against the headboard, wrapping his arms around his legs and trying to make himself as small as possible. "Please don't touch me," Curt begged, way beyond pride at this point.
The man stepped away, giving Curt some room. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The soothing voice sounded sincere, but Curt couldn't quite believe him. It had to be a trap to lull him into submission. "Please..." Curt swallowed a sob.
Moving slowly, the man sat on the other bed. "I want to help you. I can see you're sick. Since you were on the streets, I'm assuming you have nowhere to go. Please let me help."
Curt was so tired, so traumatized, that the kindness he heard in this stranger's voice finally worked past his defenses. "Okay."
The man stayed seated. "I'm Kit. What's your name?"
Curt slowly relaxed the stranglehold on his legs, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Curt."
"Good. Nice to meet you, Curt."
The approval in Kit's voice washed over Curt, wrapping him in a soft glow of happiness. "Um, yeah, nice to meet you," Curt stammered, unsure of what to do now. He couldn't believe Kit was going to help him without wanting something in return.
"Are you hungry?"
Curt hesitated before shaking his head.
"What were you going to say, Curt?" Kit asked, concern turning his blue eyes darker.
"I'm thirsty."
Kit nodded. "Of course. Let me get you some water." He stood slowly, turning to find a glass and then filling it in the bathroom. Returning to Curt, he put the glass down on the bedside table and sat down again.
Watching Kit, Curt inched forward until he could reach the glass. He took a sip of the water and then drank the rest quickly. It felt so cool and good. Curt sighed as he put the glass back on the table.
"Curt, can you tell me how you feel, what's wrong? It looks like you have a fever and you're bruised. What else can you tell me?"
Curt blushed crimson, feeling his entire body heat up. No. He couldn't talk about this now. Dropping his head, Curt mumbled, "I'm okay."
"I can't help you unless you're honest with me, Curt." Kit's voice was matter of fact. "I'm not trying to pry or embarrass you, but if you're hurt I need to know it so I can help."
When Curt remained stubbornly silent, Kit said gently, "I know what can happen on the streets, Curt. Did someone get rough with you?"
Managing to nod, Curt whispered, "I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay, you don't have to tell me. But I'm worried that the fever means you have an infection. I'm going to call a doctor friend of mine and get some antibiotics."
Curt panicked. "No! No doctors. Please, no doctors."
Curt's reaction was so out of proportion that Kit didn't even try to argue. "Okay, Curt, no doctors. I'm just going to call and get the medicine delivered. No one else is going to touch you."
Calming somewhat, Curt watched in silence as Kit talked on the phone, telling his friend the symptoms and asking for help. Kit gave an address, said thank you, and then hung up. Curt had never heard of someone delivering medicine, but Kit seemed confident that it would work.
Seeing Curt's confusion, Kit said, "My friend understands that sometimes kids don't want to go to a doctor and answer questions. She helps me out when she can."
Curt's eyes widened. "Do you do this often -- help kids out?"
"I try to help, but there are so many..." Kit looked Curt over carefully. "You looked ready to fall over."
Curt gave a tiny smile.
Kit gestured to the bathroom. "Why don't you clean up a bit while we wait for the medicine and then you can get some sleep."
Curt tried to get up, but he was so exhausted, his legs wouldn't support him. Before he could fall, Kit reached out for his arm. Curt pulled away, falling back onto the bed with a whimper.
"Curt, I'm not going to hurt you. I am going to see that you get better. In order to do that, you're going to have to accept that I might need to touch you. I understand that it's difficult for you, but I need you to trust me." Kit spoke with the calm certainty that he would be obeyed.
"I'm sorry," Curt whispered. "I'll try."
Kit smiled, and Curt was surprised at how nice it made him look. Seen in the light, Kit's thick, brown hair was lightly streaked with blond and fell below his shoulders. Curt didn't think he'd ever seen a man with hair that long, but he realized he liked it. Even though Kit was older, he was trim and muscular and healthy looking. He was also very tall and commanding which made Curt distinctly uncomfortable and yet strangely fascinated.
"Good. Can you let me help you walk to the bathroom?" Kit offered his arm.
Taking a deep breath, Curt reached out, standing up and holding on to Kit for balance. Slowly they walked across the room. Kit left Curt leaning against the sink counter. "If you need help just call."
A few minutes later the toilet flushed and the sink was turned on. Kit was waiting by the bathroom door when he heard a knock on the outside door. Moving to open it, Kit found a teenager holding a grocery sack. "Thanks," he said, handing the kid some money and taking the bag.
Kit was about to look through the contents of the bag when Curt opened the bathroom door. Walking over to Curt he offered his arm again, pleased when Curt took it without comment.
Kit pulled back the blanket and top sheet before he helped Curt sit down on the bed. Dropping to his knees, Kit untied Curt's ratty sneakers and pulled them and Curt's socks off. Curt tensed but didn't protest.
"You're doing great, Curt." Kit returned to the table, taking a note out of the bag and scanning it.
Warily, Curt watched as Kit pulled a bottle of apple juice out of the bag. That didn't seem too bad. This time Curt accepted the glass from Kit, trying not to flinch as their fingers brushed. "Thanks." The juice tasted surprisingly good, sweet and tangy. Curt put the empty glass on the bedside table and lay back, exhausted.
Kit came over to Curt, looking serious. "Curt, my friend wants me to give you an injection to get the antibiotics in your system right away. I've done it before, so I know what I'm doing. You can trust me."
Curt's eyes looked huge in his thin, tired face. His lips trembled as he fought to accept Kit's words. "Okay."
While Kit prepared the syringe and put alcohol on a cotton ball, he said, "Okay, Curt, I need you to unzip your jeans and lay on you stomach. You don't have to pull them down, just loosen them for me, okay?"
Curt was silent, torn between wanting to trust this man who had been kind to him and wanting to start screaming and never stop. Finally, he unzipped his pants and rolled over onto his stomach. Feeling the bed sink as Kit sat down next to him, Curt bit his lip and tried not to cry out.
"Okay, Curt, it will be over in a minute. Hang in there with me." As Kit pushed Curt's pants down a little he saw the livid bruises on Curt's waist. However, he didn't have time to linger over them. Efficiently Kit sterilized a small area of Curt's skin, pinching it and pushing the needle into Curt. After the medicine had been injected, Kit withdrew the needle and carefully righted Curt's pants. "You did it, Curt. I'm so proud of you."
Curt lay panting on the bed, trying to calm himself. Kit's words of praise helped him focus, but he was still shaky. He had been terrified that Kit would say something about the bruises, would want to look for other injuries. He just couldn't expose himself more.
"I want you to sleep now. I'm not going to hurt you, and I'll be here so no one else will hurt you. Okay?"
"Okay," Curt agreed quietly. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Turning off the main light, Kit went into the bathroom.
Curt took the opportunity to zip up his jeans and pull the blankets over him. Even though he was hot, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep if he felt exposed.
By the time Kit returned Curt was asleep. Putting his shoes and socks by the table, Kit found a book and climbed into the other bed, keeping his clothes on so he wouldn't frighten Curt.
*****
Kit woke up to Curt's cries. Sitting up, Kit turned the lamp on and looked over at Curt. The poor kid looked so small, so vulnerable, curled up tight on his side, clutching his knees to his chest. He cried out again, twisting and whimpering "no" over and over again.
Starting out quietly, Kit called to Curt, trying to wake him without touching him. When Curt wouldn't wake up even when he spoke loudly, Kit knelt by the bed and gently touched Curt's shoulder. The heat radiating from Curt's body was intense. Concerned, Kit placed his hand lightly on Curt's forehead. He definitely had a high fever.
Trying again, Kit firmly told Curt to wake up. Curt seemed to respond to that tone, opening his eyes blearily. "What?"
Kit gentled his voice, trying to sound reassuring. "Curt, it's Kit. Everything's fine."
Curt closed his eyes and pulled a pillow over his head. A muffled voice said, "Then why are you waking me up?"
Smiling at the totally put-out tone of Curt's question, Kit said, "Because you --"
Curt suddenly snapped awake, the remembered terror of his dreams coloring his perceptions. "Get away from me! Don't you dare touch me." Curt threw the pillow at Kit, trying to scoot to the far side of the bed. His face was flushed and his breath came in shallow, frantic pants. "You're just like everybody else," he accused.
Catching the pillow easily, Kit stayed on the floor, saying calmly, "Curt, I'm not going to hurt you. I woke you because you were having a nightmare."
Shaking his head, Curt blinked back the tears that were threatening. He was so tired, so hot, so hurt.
"Curt," Kit used the commanding tone again, "I'm not going to hurt you. You have a fever and you're tired. I'm trying to help you feel better. I need you to trust me."
Curt's anger seemed to deflate, along with his strength, and he slumped down onto the bed. "I'm so tired."
"I know, kiddo. Let me help you." Kit leaned over to pick up Curt's glass then slowly stood up, walking over to the table. Returning with the juice, Kit sat on the edge of Curt's bed. "Can you sit up to drink this?"
Stiffly, Curt managed to haul himself upright and lean heavily against the headboard.
He managed to drink most of the juice, feeling slightly better afterwards.
"Do you need to use the bathroom?"
Shaking his head, Curt mumbled, "Don't think I could walk that far now."
"I could carry you," Kit suggested.
"No, I'm okay."
"Okay, for now." Kit looked at Curt's sweaty face and decided to push his luck. "Curt, I need you to listen to me and trust me. I'm not going to hurt you. You have a fever and you need to cool down. I know you're uncomfortable with your clothes on. I need you to take them off, let yourself cool down."
Curt started to protest, but fell silent, whether in exhaustion or acceptance, Kit didn't know. When Curt didn't move, Kit tried again, "Curt, help me out here."
"I can't...so tired." Curt's eyelids flickered as he fought against falling back asleep.
"Curt, let me help you."
When Curt nodded, Kit carefully helped Curt pull his t-shirt over his head. Curt moaned as his muscles protested, and Kit was saddened to see the extent of the bruises and cuts that covered Curt's thin body. He'd certainly been worked over.
"Can you lie down now?"
Slowly Curt tipped sideways, practically falling onto the mattress.
"Okay, that works. Can you unzip your pants?"
Curt hesitated, but finally fumbled to undo his jeans. He just wanted to feel cool and be allowed to sleep. He felt strong hands tugging at his jeans and had to force himself not to fight against them. The sheet was pulled over him, and he thought he heard a gentle command to sleep, but he was already drifting off.
*****
In the morning Kit found Curt still sleeping. He looked a little flushed, but didn't appear to be in distress. After cleaning up, Kit unpacked the bag Anne had sent. In addition to the antibiotics and juice, there were crackers and some apples, a salve, bandages, and an enema kit. He was sure that Curt was not going to like that. From the extent of the bruising he'd seen, and the careful way Curt moved, Kit was concerned that the rough handling had resulted in more serious damage. He was just going to have to get Curt to let him assess the extent of the injuries.
Curt slept into the late morning. Not wanting to go out for breakfast and leave Curt alone, Kit ate an apple and read while he waited for Curt to wake up. Every now and then, Kit would find himself looking at Curt. The kid was so thin and worn down that he looked insubstantial. Yet there was something luminous about him that had jumped out at Kit as he'd cruised the streets, looking into the eyes of those damaged kids.
Even sick and terrified, Curt had an inner spark that had drawn him immediately. He could tell that the boy was special.
Often he was able to help a kid get off the street, either to a better situation or back home. Sometimes all it took was a little interest, a little care. Very rarely he found one who called to him, a special boy he instinctively wanted to nurture, to help discover the joys and pleasures of the world, to shape into a mature, functional adult. He could already feel that Curt was one of the rare ones.
"You weren't a dream."
Hearing the hesitant statement, Kit turned to smile at Curt. "No, I'm real. How are you feeling, Curt?"
Sitting up slowly, Curt blushed as the sheet pooled around his waist. He pulled it up and tried to cover as much of his body as possible. He was relieved when Kit didn't comment. "Better, I think. I'm not as tired."
Kit watched Curt struggle to regain his composure. He looked so fragile, his hair mussed from sleep and his eyes huge. They looked green this morning, but Kit could have sworn they'd been blue last night. Regardless of the color, they radiated a deep pain that went beyond the most recent trauma. Kit felt his stomach tighten at the thought of anyone hurting this beautiful boy.
"Do you still feel hot?" Kit asked gently.
"A little," Curt confessed, wary of questions about his body.
"You need more antibiotics." Kit went to pick a small bottle of pills and the juice.
Curt looked upset. "I can't swallow pills." It had started out as a small rebellion at the sanitarium and escalated into an uncontrollable physical response.
Kit wanted to ask questions, but sensed that Curt wasn't ready to give any answers. "Okay. But you need to take the medicine. Will you let me give you a shot?"
Curt looked closely at Kit before saying, "Yeah."
Before he started to prepare the shot, Kit filled a clean glass with apple juice and handed it to Curt. He was pleased when Curt accepted it and was able to drink it all. "Can you make it to the bathroom while I do this?"
"I think so." Curt looked around, asking nervously, "Where are my clothes?"
"On the chair back. But I'm going to need to fix up your cuts, so why don't you wrap up in the sheet for now?" Kit asked firmly but gently.
Curt was still for a moment, meeting Kit's eyes, silently assessing him. Finally Curt nodded to himself and tugged on the sheet.
Kit turned around, allowing Curt some privacy, yet following his progress by sound. By the time Kit was ready, Curt was coming out of the bathroom. "Do you want me to lie down again?" Curt asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
"If you want, or you could just stay standing," Kit suggested, giving Curt the choice.
Curt drifted closer to Kit, looking up at him. "You're so tall."
Kit immediately sat in the chair. "Is this better?"
"Yeah." Curt made his way over to stand by Kit.
"Okay, are you ready?"
Curt slowly unwrapped himself from the sheet, trembling slightly as Kit pushed his underwear down a little. The brief sting of the injection barely registered and then Kit's hand were gone and it was over.
"You did great, kiddo." Kit's voice was rich with approval and praise.
Curt felt himself responding to the warmth of Kit's tone. The small smile he managed flattened out quickly when Kit said, "Curt, I know you don't want to be touched, but I need to clean up your cuts and check you, make sure you aren't seriously hurt."
"I'm okay." Curt pulled the sheet around himself protectively.
"Curt, you've got to trust me. I want to help you get better. I'm not going to hurt you." How many times had he said that since he'd picked Curt up? And how many more times was he going to have to say it until Curt learned for himself that it was the truth?
Sitting on Kit's bed, Curt tilted his head and said carefully, "I'm not sure I can trust you. You've been so nice to me, but that only means you want something from me." Curt watched Kit, afraid of his reaction, but needing to get things straight. "And the only thing anyone wants from me is sex..."
Kit sighed, saddened that Curt's experiences had led him to that conclusion. "I know it seems like that sometimes." Kit ran his hands through his hair. "Curt, I'm never going to lie to you. I want to show you that you can trust me, but for now, you're going to have to believe that I'm telling you the truth."
Curt watched Kit carefully, intrigued against his will by the strong hands, flowing hair and compassionate eyes. He desperately wanted to trust Kit, but could he? "Why are you helping me?"
"I'm not married, don't have any kids, no family. I have money, business interests, lots of acquaintances, some good friends, but it's not really enough. Helping kids makes me feel good, like I've made a difference." Kit waited to see if Curt was following him.
Curt nodded, silently asking for him to continue.
"Lots of kids I help just need a little push in the right direction. Some need a little more effort, some need a lot more, but it is worth all the work when I see them get their lives back together. I like to teach, to nurture. I'm not going to demand that you tell me about your past, but I can see that you've been badly hurt. I want to help you heal, teach you about the wonderful possibilities in front of you, help you reach out and grab them."
Curt's eyes had widened as Kit's words sank in. "That might take a long time. I'm not worth your effort."
"You're wrong, Curt. You're a survivor. After all you've been through, you still shine so brightly. I can tell you are a good kid. All you need is someone to believe in you, show you that you are worth it. I want to be the one to do that."
Curt clearly couldn't believe the offer was real. "And you don't want to have sex with me?"
"I told you I wouldn't lie to you, Curt. You are very beautiful and desirable, and I'd like to make love with you. But that's not the reason I want to help you, and it's not a requirement for my help." Kit met Curt's panicked eyes. "I would never force you."
Taking a deep breath, Curt tried to stay calm. It was better to hear the truth, to understand where he stood with this man. Part of him wanted to cower in the corner, but the rest of him heard Kit's words and wanted the love he seemed to be offering.
"You'd help me even if I told you not to touch me?"
"Yes, Curt. I'm not going to throw you back on the streets. I don't expect you to want physical contact right away. You've been traumatized and you need to recover. But I do want you to know that in the right situation, making love can be a wonderful experience, physically and emotionally. I'm willing to wait and hope you'll want to let me show you that I'm telling the truth. But if you never want me to teach you that lesson, I won't. I give you my word, Curt."
"You want to teach me other stuff, too?" Curt had been starved for knowledge for so long that the offer was irresistible.
"Yes. I'm interested in lots of different topics and I can teach you all sorts of things."
"Where would I live?"
"I have a house in Grosse Pointe. You could have your own room. We'd have to be careful not to be too obvious, since people might not understand, but it's very private."
Curt thought for a moment, then said, "You were born too late."
Kit raised his eyebrows and smiled. "What do you mean?"
Smiling back tentatively, Curt said, "You should have been born thousands of years ago in Greece. Then you could have been a philosopher and taught boys and no one would have cared."
Laughing, Kit asked, "You're right, I would have fit right in. Where did you learn about Greek history?" Kit was continually impressed with the depth of this kid.
Curt shrugged. "I used to read a lot."
"You can read as much as you want now."
"Cool."
They sat in the motel room, looking at each other, quietly forging the first links in the chain of trust.
Finally Kit broke the silence. "I need to see how badly you're hurt."
Curt nodded, not trusting himself to speak, but giving permission.
"Let me see your hands." Curt stuck out his hands, showing Kit his bruised wrists.
"I can't do anything for the bruises, but I can put salve and bandages on the cuts. Would you stand up for me?"
Slowly, Curt stood, dropping the sheet, covered only by his underwear. Kit scanned Curt's thin, smooth chest and legs, finding some scratches but unable to see any serious damage. "Turn around, please."
Curt complied, tense but trusting. His shoulder had a cut that looked suspiciously like a bite mark and his hips were bruised. "Okay. You look like walking and sitting is uncomfortable. I'm going to need you to take off you underwear and let me see what's wrong."
Turning around to face Kit, Curt said, "Promise me you won't..."
"I promise. I'll only touch you to help." Kit remained seated, letting Curt take his time.
Finally Curt dropped his underwear and stood in front of Kit nervously. Kit sought any sign of damage but Curt's genitals seemed fine. "Turn around again."
Curt followed Kit's direction. Again, Kit saw bruises but nothing major. Kit squinted into the shadows hiding Curt's inner thigh. What was that? "Curt, can you lie down on your back and let me look at your thigh?"
"It's no big deal." Curt's voice was soft, pleading.
"It might not be, but I can't tell unless I see. Please." Kit projected calm certainty.
Finally Curt lay against the pillows. Kit draped Curt's sheet over his lap then sat on the edge of the bed. "Curt, bend your legs up and let your right leg fall to the side." Now Kit could see the bite wound high on Curt's inner thigh, red and irritated. "It looks infected. The antibiotics will help, and we can soak it with warm water and put salve on it, too."
Curt closed his legs, trying to pull the sheet down farther, dreading the next question.
"Do you hurt anywhere else?" Kit asked gently.
"No, I'm just sore," Curt said quickly.
"Did you bleed?" Kit felt sorry he had to put Curt through this, and it was going to get worse before it got better.
"Yeah, but it stopped," Curt said defensively, burying his flushed face against his knees.
Kit pressed further, saying, "Okay, that's good. From the scabbing, it looks like it's been a few days. Have you been able to use the bathroom since then?"
Curt whipped his head up, staring at Kit in shock. Finally he dropped his gaze and mumbled, "I don't want to talk about this."
"I'm sorry, Curt. I know it's embarrassing, but I'm asking because I don't want you hurt further." Kit watched Curt struggle to accept his words.
"No. It hurt too much."
"That's a very common reaction after trauma like this. We're going to have to clean you out before you'll feel better."
Curt's chin quivered as he whispered, "I don't like the sound of that."
"I'll take care of everything, Curt. You just have to let me help you."
"How?"
"By relaxing and trusting me. I'll explain everything so you know what to expect, but it needs to be done. You really will feel a lot better afterwards."
"What are you going to do?" Curt's face had a look of resignation.
"Insert a small tube inside you and slowly let warm water in. You hold the water for a few minutes and then use the bathroom."
Curt wrinkled his nose, clearly not happy. "Will it hurt?"
"As the water goes in you may cramp a bit, but we'll take it slow so it won't hurt."
"Have you done it before?" Curt watched Kit's face carefully.
"Yes. I told you that I'd be honest with you. I will never ask you to do something I haven't done, that I don't know is safe. It takes some getting used to, but some people really enjoy getting an enema. Some like the feeling of cleanliness, for others it just makes them feel really good."
"That sounds strange."
"A lot of things that sound bad can be really good under the right circumstances and with the right person," Kit observed. "Will you trust me?" Kit reached his hand out to Curt.
Slowly Curt put his smaller hand into Kit's larger one. "Yes."
Kit squeezed Curt's hand lightly, acknowledging the step they'd taken. "Good. Take deep breaths and try to relax while I'll get things set up.
Curt heard the water running in the sink and tried not to shudder at the thought of letting Kit do this to him.
Before long, Kit returned carrying a towel. There were several possible positions they could use -- shoulders and knees, over Kit's knees, or on Curt's side would all work. He thought Curt would feel too exposed on his knees, but it would be better to give him a choice. "We can do this with you lying over my knees or with you on your side on the bed."
"The bed," Curt replied stiffly.
"Okay." Kit spread the towel on the bed. "Lie down here on your left side. You can cover up with the sheet if that makes you feel more comfortable." Kit went over to the table and found the small container of Vaseline. Returning, he found Curt waiting, biting his lower lip. He wanted to hold Curt, comfort him, but knew his touch would be unwelcome.
"Okay, bend your right leg up near your chest." Kit sat down on the bed, touching
Curt's hip. "I'm going to move the sheet a bit and lubricate you to make it easier."
Curt whimpered as Kit's slippery finger touched him intimately, pushing inside and rotating slightly.
Relieved to find that Curt wasn't torn badly, Kit removed his finger and praised, "You're doing great, Curt. Hold on, I'll be right back."
Curt tried to breathe steadily, focusing his gaze on the line of bright light spilling in through the curtains. He could get through this. Curt started as Kit sat down behind him.
"Easy, I didn't mean to startle you." Kit stroked Curt's side lightly, trying to reassure him. "I'm going to insert the nozzle. It shouldn't hurt, but if it does, tell me right away, okay?"
"Yeah."
Kit added Vaseline before positioning the nozzle and slowly pressing it into Curt. Even as Curt tensed, it slid in easily. "I'm going to let some water flow. Try to relax. If you cramp, tell me." Normally the bag was hung up, but Kit didn't have that luxury here. Instead, he held it in his left hand as he carefully opened the clamp on the hose a little bit, then brought his hand down to be sure the nozzle stayed inside Curt.
As the water filled him, Curt began to panic. He felt a strong need to release and was terrified that he wouldn't be able to hold on. He must have made a sound of distress, because he heard Kit's deep, soothing voice telling him to relax, to let the spasm pass. As he calmed, he realized the need had lessened to a manageable level.
Kit raised the bag slightly, letting more water flow in. While he didn't want to go too fast, this was not the time to draw things out too much, either. He kept up a quiet monologue of reassurance and praise, watching as Curt's abdomen became distended.
The next time Curt cried out, Kit slipped his hand to Curt's stomach, massaging gently to soothe him through the cramp. Once enough water was inside Curt, Kit clamped the tube and then continued to rub Curt's stomach while they waited.
As the discomfort lessened, Curt realized that Kit was touching his stomach. Surprisingly, Kit's hand felt good -- solid yet gentle, reassuring. Before he knew it, Kit was helping him stand up and carefully walk to the bathroom.
Kit cleaned up and packed the few things he'd brought with him while Curt showered.
Curt had done so well, trusting Kit, allowing his touch. They had made a connection that they could build upon. It was time to take Curt home.
*****
The fire had died down to the low glow of embers by the time Curt paused to catch his breath. He knew that Brian had already heard the talk about his brother and the electric shock treatments. But nobody knew about Kit. He was afraid to see Brian's reaction.
Brian was stunned. He had never imagined that Curt's story would go in this direction. He wasn't sure exactly how he felt about it, either. He saw Curt looking nervously at him, waiting for a response. "Well, you've completely surprised me, and I'm not quite sure what to say. I'm glad that you got away from that horrible situation."
Curt tilted his head, studying Brian in the dim light. "But..."
"But," Brian bit his lower lip, nibbling lightly, "I'm uncomfortable with the new situation. I mean you were a kid and this man picks you up and takes over your life. You didn't have any more of a choice with him than you did with the others."
"Actually, Kit was the only one who ever gave me choices." Curt tried not to sound too defensive. "I know it sounds like a bad situation. I was suspicious of him at first too. But he was gentle with me, offered me what I needed, what nobody else had ever given me -- love and encouragement and knowledge. I can't describe how happy he made me."
Hearing Curt practically glowing about being with another man made Brian feel a sharp twinge of jealousy. He wanted to be the one Curt loved, not some bloody mentor-father figure. As soon as he thought it, Brian cringed at his reaction. Curt had suffered so much, how could he begrudge a moment of true happiness? "I'm trying to understand."
"Thanks, Bri. Let me tell you more about it and maybe you'll see why it meant so much to me." Curt stood up and reached his hand down to tug Brian up. They moved to the couch and Curt draped an afghan over their laps before snuggling closer to Brian.
Sighing as his body made contact with Curt's warm skin, Brian relaxed into the solid strength of the man he loved desperately. Trying to keep an open mind, he said, "Okay, tell me more."
*****